Page 40 of Duress
“I need to be in you, Everly. I need you.” There is a frantic sort of desperation in his eyes that dissolves any remaining shred of moral goodness I have inside of me. I can’t say no to this man, and I will go to hell for it.
His lips capture mine in a kiss that feels as desperate as he looks. His lips are salty from tears. I lick them, trying to erase the evidence of his hurt. I would do anything to make sure he never goes through that kind of pain ever again. His hands pull my leggings down, and cool air greets the flushed, hot skin of my pussy. The wetness on my vulvaonly has a moment to cool before Dane shoves two fingers in me, curling them to my G-spot in one fluid motion. I’m so slick and ready for him, he hits his target, causing my hips to buck up, seeking more pressure.
“You’re so ready for me, aren’t you, baby? I’m going to fuck you until I’m under your skin. Until I’m your everything, like you are mine.” Dane whispers his filthy vow directly into my ear as he curls his fingers into a come hither motion, detonating me. Wetness gushes from me as I bite on the fleshy part of my palm in an attempt to muffle my scream. Dane captures my wrist with the hand that just wrung every ounce of pleasure from me, leaving me empty and gasping for air.
“Don’t you dare keep your screams from me. If I make you come, I want to hear it. I deserve to hear it.” His words are so commanding, but there is an earnestness to them that wraps around my heart, binding it to his inextricably.
Dumbfounded and lust drunk, I nod my understanding while I lose myself in the forest green of his eyes. Then the thick head of his cock is pressing against my entrance. Somehow he got both of our pants off and made me come like some sort of sexual hat trick. Unwilling to wait for a second longer, he shunts his dick inside me with a forceful thrust, the desperate need to merge our bodies together radiating from him. “Need to be inside you. God, I need you.”
His words are a quiet prayer whispered against my skin that I’m not sure he even knows he is uttering. I drag his shirt up so I can feel his skin against mine. We break apart only long enough to lose our shirts. With no more barriersbetween us, our movements become less frantic and more languid and intentional. He traces his fingers along the curve of my waist. I drag my fingernails up his back. His thrusts go from powerful and frantic to slow and methodical. His hips move in a fluid, languid rocking like the surf lapping at the beach.
I lose all sense of time as we kiss, our bodies undulating in a rhythm that only they know. We move together like we’ve done this a thousand times already. Pleasure builds in me slowly, like a fire catching from the smallest spark. Soon the heat builds to indescribable levels. I dig my fingers in his back, urging him to keep going, and Dane responds by kissing me harder, but continuing to fuck me like he’s savoring it and in no hurry to come.
My orgasm is so close, but just out of reach. I lock my ankles around his hips, urging him to fuck me harder, and he responds by biting my lower lip.
“You want to come, Ever? You gonna let me hear this one?” His eyes darken at his question, and I know there is only one correct response.
“Yes. Please make me come.”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk before he snaps his hips, fucking me hard, just the way I need.
“Fuck, yes!” I don’t hold back this time and rain praise down on him as he drives into me, unleashing another orgasm from me that causes me to clutch on to him so hard I know I draw blood. Dane doesn’t miss a beat, and keeps fucking until I feel him thicken inside me as his own pleasure erupts. Our mouths find one another as he slowly lowers his body so we are pressed together—chest to chest,his dick still inside me, coated in our release as it softens. We are breathing each other’s air as our kiss becomes slow and tender. I can feel our hearts crashing together where our skin touches. Dane did it. He is inside of me. He is part of me now. There is no going back for me now. No matter how wrong it is.
CHAPTER 37
DANE
This doesn’t make any fucking sense. No fucking sense at all. Pacing in front of the small table in my kitchen, I run my fingers through my hair for the millionth time, trying to puzzle out the information in front of me.
I have the medical examiner’s report spread out. I’ve read every line in it multiple times. The urge to vomit has been haunting me since I read each documented injury. There were plenty of injuries that could be explained by the impact between the car and the tree and the airbag deploying. But one in particular haunts me, because it makes no fucking sense.
The crush injury to the back of my dad’s head. Described as central to the occipital bone, about four centimeters in diameter. His skull was smashed in, resulting in trauma to the occipital lobe. It is listed as the cause of death.
How in the hell did he wind up with a traumatic injury to the back of his skull in a forward collision?
I try to think back to the day we got the news.Did the officers give Mom or Bryce any indication that dad’s death was anything more than a tragic accident?But my memory of that day is just a fog of grief. I refuse to ask Mom about it. She was doing so much better last time I saw her. More like the woman who raised me than she has been in a decade since losing Dad. I am not going to set her back just to sate my curiosity.
I also refuse to talk to Bryce about it. At least until I have a better idea of what the truth really is. I know how easily he lies and manipulates, and I want to be prepared with facts I can check him with.
Glancing at the clock on the stove, I see it is nearly midnight. I go on shift in the morning at seven. I make a plan to go into the station early to see if I can find the police report from Dad’s accident, to see if anything unusual was noticed when they arrived on the scene.
I pull out my phone to see if Everly has texted me. Nothing. After making love to her, we both fell asleep, emotionally and physically drained. When I woke up nearly two hours later, the gnawing feeling that this is the key to unlocking everything would not leave me alone. It made me anxious, my body thrumming with renewed purpose. The need to have answers driving me away from the comfort of her embrace. She didn’t rouse at all when I crawled out of bed. I left Everly sleeping, so beautiful and peaceful, so I could solve this mystery.
It felt like I was leaving a piece of my soul behind when I walked out of her bedroom. It also felt a lot like I was leaving her alone in a lion’s den.
The next morningI arrive at work an hour earlier than usual. The skeleton crew that works the nightshift are sitting in the dimly lit room, quietly finishing up their paperwork from the night’s events. Birch Falls at night is fairly quiet unless there is a big event on campus or it’s rush week at BFU. Mostly DUIs, a few bar fights, sometimes an out of control college party. The crew that works this shift has been on it for years. It takes the right kind of person to work that shift. Most newbies can’t hack it, too used to the normal biological circadian rhythm. But when someone clicks with it, they really click with it. Hugh Harvey is one of those people. He’s been on the nightshift since I joined the academy six years ago. Probably even longer. I’m not sure when he moved to Birch Falls. All I know is he came from a bigger city a few hours away, with a much busier and more troublesome population. He said he moved to Birch Falls because he was getting too old for that shit. He’s however not too old to be a night owl apparently.
“You’re up early. You forget daylight savings isn’t until next week?”
“I need to look something up. Figured now would be the best time to go digging into the file room before things get busy.” I wave my thermos of coffee at him, not stopping my stride, not interested in small talk. Hugh grunts a dismissive goodbye in return. I take two steps before itdawns on me—Hugh might be exactly the person I need to talk to.
Turning on my heel, I head back over to Hugh’s desk. “Hey, Hugh, when did you join the BFPD?”
Hugh had already buried his nose in his work so my question catches him off guard. Hugh sits back in his chair, causing it to creak from his substantial size. He’s a big man. Nearly six-foot-five, probably 280 pounds on a good day. Night shift is hell on the body. I can tell Hugh used to be fit and formidable in his younger days, but the sedentary lifestyle is catching up to him. Still, though, when he knocks on your car window after pulling you over at two in the morning, you realize he is not a man to be trifled with.
“Winter of 2008, why?” Blood rushes to my head. That is six months before my dad’s accident. Hugh would’ve definitely been one of the responding officers.
I take a seat on the metal chair next to his desk. “Can I ask you about a car accident you might have worked in 2009?”
